


It Is Always You

by typewrittencurlie



Series: Fullest Moon Side Fics [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Background Relationships, Caring Greg Lestrade, Caring Mycroft Holmes, Developing Relationship, First Love, First Time, Gentle Sex, Greg Lestrade & Sherlock Holmes Friendship, Greg is Sweet, M/M, Mycroft Being a Good Brother, Mycroft Feels, Mycroft Holmes IS the British Government, Mycroft is a Softie, POV Mycroft Holmes, Pre-Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Protective Greg, Protective Mycroft, Vampire Irene Adler (Sherlock Holmes)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:00:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22459900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/typewrittencurlie/pseuds/typewrittencurlie
Summary: Mycroft Holmes has never been good with relationships. Every boyfriend he chooses turns out to be more interested in his self-made fortune, or the enormous power Mycroft wielded as a top employee of her Majesty's government.Until he meets Gregory Lestrade.Gregory is everything he could ever ask for and so much more. He even adores his poor little Were of a brother, Sherlock.Another side story to Full Moon Rising, focusing on the Mystrade relationship's origins. Most of the other fics tie in to this one, but you don't necessarily have to read them.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes & Greg Lestrade, Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Mycroft Holmes/Lestrade
Series: Fullest Moon Side Fics [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1608412
Kudos: 43





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to be clear Mycroft is about 24 at the beginning of the story...

"Sir, if we act on this Intel, then we can, in time, avert an unnecessary war." I said to the Prime Minister in our weekly meeting, as we sat I his office, sipping a sweet brandy. I laid out the plans for him, and eventually he understood, sanctioning any actions MI-6 might undertake.

I went home, relief being the most prevalent emotion in my mind. I poured myself a large glass of wine, sitting back in my comfortable chair. Finally, after a week of - Dammit! My cellphone rang as soon as I was able to relax.

I answered with a curt, "Mycroft Holmes." It was my assistant, Anthea.

"Sir, one of your agents has been murdered. I'm sending you the details now. You should be the one to fence the questions, sir." Anthea had always been a perfect judge of when I could send an underling into the field for a cease and desist notice. I knew then that this was no ordinary agent. I glanced at the message, and told her to send a car immediately.

Twenty minutes later, I stepped out of the black sedan, and onto a little used byway of London. Police tape cordoned off a large section of the street, and a constable was turning away the odd car. I opened my umbrella against the mid March drizzle, and approached the sergeant presiding over the crime scene. Steady, responsible, and in line for a promotion, by his demeanor.

"Sergeant," I called, at the line, then forced myself not to swoon as he turned around. Damnit Holmes! The officer an exceedingly handsome man, with chestnut brown hair, and intensely black eyes that were somehow warm and inviting. God, if only he were gay...

"Hello. Erm, can I help you?" He asked, his London accent frightfully endearing.

"I have orders to stop this investigation. The man in question worked for MI-6," I replied, summoning up every ounce of professional detachment I still possessed. "If I could see the body, I can tell you what you are allowed to know." My voice was nowhere near as cold as I would have liked it to be. I must confess I was slightly weak in the knees as he smiled. I berated myself mentally for acting like a giddy schoolgirl.

He lifted the tape, allowing me to duck underneath, and lead me to my fallen agent. Fuck, Joe, who did this to you? J, as he was commonly known, was quite possibly the best operative we had. And now he was splattered all over the pavement.

His head had literally been crushed to a pulp by the force of the blows. I formulated a buyable story for the handsome man watching me examine a corpse. A dispute over money... Possible. J never did like to repay his debts.

"It was a dispute over finances, sergeant." I said, straightening my suit coat and tie as I stood.

"It's Greg. Gregory Lestrade." He smiled easily, and I tried to recover from the sudden lurching of my heart.

"Gregory. I will pay for a cremation, and contact his next of kin. You will be getting a call from your superiors in a few minutes, officially closing the case." I wasn't surprised that this man wasn't intimidated by my demeanor, seeing as I was not exactly at my best. Damn his breathtaking smiles.

"Thank you...?"

"Mycroft Holmes."

"Alright, thanks Mycroft. Erm listen, you wouldn't want to have coffee with me sometime, would you? I know this great place in the Italian district, and..." Wait... _What?_ This absolute _god_ of a man is asking me out?

I almost thought that this was all just a dream, except I knew I couldn't dream up a man this perfect. "I would, Gregory. I will see you tomorrow at five?" I asked, as I gave him a hesitant smile. He told me his address, even though I easily could have asked Anthea for it. Butterflies filled my stomach, as I walked to my waiting car and climbed in.

I couldn't believe that he - possibly - could find me attractive enough to ask out. I never considered myself as such, always counting Sherlock as the better-looking brother .

Thinking about poor Sherl set off my protective nature, and I reassured myself that nothing was going to happen to him. I knew all too well the statistics for pre-adult turns. 

But Sherlock will live. He has to.

I arrived back at my flat, and drank my wine slowly, as I did a bit of discreet research on Gregory.

I normally considered most people to be akin to goldfish, but there was something different about Gregory Lestrade. I couldn't quite explain it. I _wanted_ to see him again, which was highly unusual. I'd never been this willing to go on even a second date, let alone the awkward first.

I was a virgin, even though I had boyfriends in the past, but somehow their petty betrayals were like dust the wind as soon as I met Gregory. He was a different class of man than I had ever encountered, steadfast, and going by his history that I was perusing, loyal almost to a fault.

My research into the sergeant only added fuel to the burning interest I had in the man. He had a sizeable inheritance from a grandmother who had passed a few years ago, and so I knew he wouldn't be after my own considerable wealth that I bring in from dabbling in stocks. He was from a respectable family, half French on his father's side, and already in line for a detective shield.

Yes, I definitely had an interest in Gregory Lestrade.


	2. Chapter 2

I showed up at Gregory's door the next day, punctual as ever. I brought him a simple rose, wanting to make him smile. The sergeant answered the door in an instant, wearing a freshly pressed shirt, nice tie, and khakis. I smiled hesitantly, and offed him the rose. "For you. I..." I sighed, giving him a carefully guarded, but still genuine, smile.

He gave me a blinding grin, "I love it." I could almost swear that his cheeks seemed a little pink. "So, do you want to take my car? I hardly use it, usually I take the squad car, but..." I bit my lip, unable to look away.

"I have a car waiting for us. Job perks, and all that." I wondered how much knowledge of my life I could trust him with. I was a civil servant, at least that's what I was to the world, but I could accurately say that my opinions influenced all major decisions made by the Prime Minister and MI-6. I still had no sway over the other branches, but in due time. Most of the men in my life previously had either balked at the power I held, or tried to manipulate me.

"Wow, this is nice. Are you some sort of MP?" Gregory asked, as he climbed into the car waiting for us, after I slid into the seat.

"I'm just a civil servant." I said, as I buckled my seatbelt. "Where are we going?" I settled into my seat, as Gregory rattled off the address of a quaint little café I have been wanting to try.

"You're gonna love this place, Myc." He said proudly, "The staff are fantastic, every chance I get, I stop there for my morning coffee. I've been wanting to take someone out to the patio for a date, but my last three significant others hated coffee."

"Gregory..." I smiled softly, inching my hand closer to his, and then I worried my lip again. I couldn't believe that he was already calling me Myc. "I..."

"Oh, shit. If you... I mean, I'm sorry, I thought..." He stumbled over his words, trying not to offend me. I chuckled quietly, because I was feeling the same a few moments before.

"Gregory, you weren't wrong. I _am_ gay. I was smiling and unsure because only my family calls me Myc. I thought it was sweet of you to pick up on my nickname." I placed my pinkie over his, where our hands rested next to each other on the seat between us. "To be completely honest, _I_ was slightly afraid that it wasn't a date to _you._ " 

He twisted his hand, lacing his fingers with mine. "Is this okay?" I nodded, and he grinned happily. I felt my anxiety lift at his smile, and as the sun shined into the car, I noticed his eyes weren't fully black, but just the deepest molasses brown I had ever seen, and they were beautiful. We arrived at our destination in a daze, and I ordered an espresso, while Gregory got a large mug of black coffee, and a chocolate croissant.

We talked and talked, about everything that struck our fancy, from the random question of why Ikea furniture was so hard to put together, to what our favorite classic movies were. Maybe at one point I considered Gregory to be an average, if rather handsome, goldfish, now... Now I admit he completely captivated me. I just wanted to spend every moment talking with him. Maybe... Maybe more than that too.

We ended up ordering a few sandwiches and more coffee, as the date stretched on. I tried to console him that there was a person out there for him (though I refrained from telling him _I_ wanted to be that person), when he spoke of the challenges a police officer faced in the dating game. He had dated both men and women, but had found the women worse than the men at asking favours from his position.

I expressed the same sentiment, though I only had dated men, and a small number at that. I could count on one hand the number of times I had been truly kissed, and just once had that _almost_ lead to the bedroom. I blushed like mad when he naively asked if I was still a virgin.

As the sun set, and the fairy lights above the patio came on, the talk turned to our families.

"You mentioned that you have a brother. Is he as brilliant as you are?" Gregory took a sip of the ice water he had switched to an hour and a half ago.

I nodded, nibbling on my croissant. "Sherlock is, without a doubt, cleverer than I am. I have a touch of OCD, when it comes to tidiness, but Sherl is the messiest little beast I have ever come across. So when he was about two and a half or three, I began to coach him on how to organize his mind. Helped him build his mind palace. He can in an instant, recall a trifling piece of information that he'd filed away three years ago."

Gregory whistled, impressed. "What's his IQ?" He actually seemed to care about my poor little brother. Like he might actually enjoy meeting him, and getting to know him.

"About 185, mine is only 165. Still, it's higher than Einstein's." I shrugged, finished with my food. "You know, he entertained the idea of being a detective once. After he grew out of the pirate phase at about ten." I chuckled, remembering the time we took a family vacation together to the ocean. He was enthralled by the waves, and begged me to play pirates. Even though I was fifteen at the time, and going through my punk phase, I still tried to be a good brother.

"How old is Sherlock now?" Gregory laid the cash on the bill, and I added a large tip, for the kind young girl who kept our drinks full.

"He just turned seventeen. I received a call from the school a few weeks ago, asking why he was signed on for the next term. He's ready to graduate at the beginning of the summer break. I'm trying to arrange it so that he can move in down the street from me, so I can keep an eye on him."

"You're a great big brother, Myc. I can tell you took over raising him at a young age." We stood, and walked through the nearby park. The driver waited on the other side of it. Gregory took my hand tentatively. "I've never clicked with someone like this before," he said, halfway to himself. I walked a little closer, brushing my shoulder against his, and he looked up at me, smiling. "You're amazing."

"Hardly. But I've never met anyone like you before, Gregory." I looked into his eyes, as they reflected the moonlight. "I... I used to think almost everyone, every _normal_ person, was akin to a goldfish. In short, stupid and not worth my time." I sniffed, biting my lip in hesitation. "You proved me wrong."

He grinned softly as we climbed in the waiting car. "Compared to you, Myc, I _am_ about as intelligent as a goldfish. I just hope I can be your favorite goldfish."

I smiled, running the back of my hand over his cheek. My heart lurched as we arrived at his building much too soon. I couldn't find the strength to let him go.

As I walked him to his door, I murmured, "I think that you could be." He stopped at the door, and I asked, "Can... Can I kiss you, Gregory? Would -" My words were cut off as he leaned up, pressing his lips to mine. I let out a soft noise of pleasure as he sucked on my lower lip for a brief moment.

I pressed my lips back to his as he pulled away, wrapping my arms around his waist, and holding him close as I tasted him. He held my face, as he pulled away for real, and I saw a grin ghost his mouth, as he murmured, "I've been waiting for that since I first saw you." He held me close, and I was loath to let him go. Eventually we had to part, and we exchanged numbers.

He caressed my face as he stood in his now open door, and I knew then that this was the beginning of something grand.


	3. Chapter 3

We had our second date a week later, as it was the nearest day that I could leave work on time. Greg showed up at my flat right on time, and had brought me a whole bouquet of roses with a wry grin. I smiled, giving him a swift kiss to the cheek, and invited him to come in. I had a few tidbits of work to finish up, and told him to sit at the breakfast bar, as I poured him a few fingers of whisky.

It was his favorite, and I'd made sure to pick it up the last time I was at the store.

"This is a nice place you've got, Myc. Must cost a fortune..." He took a sip of his scotch, and grinned at me. I grinned back, and chatted aimlessly as I finished my work.

I found a note in my schedule from Anthea, and frowned. "Greg, I'm going to need you to be absolutely silent for a moment. I need to make a call." I said, and he nodded, miming the action of sealing his lips.

I dialed the Premier's personal line in an instant, tapping my fingers on the granite counter top while I let it ring. "Mycroft! I intended to send for you tommorow!" The PM said jovially. 

"Sir, you need to reconsider you position on the MCA. If you actively opposed it, the strained relationship with France would fracture, and Russia would feel like we were an ally against Creatures. We cannot allow this." I waited irritatedly as he laughed. "I'm quite serious, sir."

"No, I know you are my boy." I bristled at his familiar tone, I was **not** his young and naive friend. "I was going to request an outline of what the bill would actually do tomorrow. I am reconsidering my opinion. I recently found out a cousin of mine caught the Werewolf virus."

I inaudibly sighed in relief, "Thank you Prime Minister. Mythical Creatures are your voters just as much as the humans, if not more, and many people have friends or family members who have been affected."

"Yes, I've never been as much aware of the crisis of speciesism until now. I look forward to hearing from you tomorrow morning." He wasn't so bad, I found myself thinking, yes a bit of an airhead, but that was true of many political candidates.

"Thank you, sir. I will be there at 10:00 for our weekly meeting. Goodbye." I hung up as soon as I heard his farewell. I looked to Gregory, nervous about what he thought of that conversation. I pursed my lips as he raised an eyebrow and smiled. "I may be a bit higher than a simple civil servant, Gregory. I'm sorry for deceiving you..." I forced myself to look away, as I put my scattered papers back into my briefcase.

"So, exactly how important are you to the functionality of the government? I mean, I'm not concerned, but I'd really like to know if the bloke I'm starting to like is some bloody bureaucrat." He grinned broadly, and took another sip of his whisky.

"I'm not a..." I sighed, leaning my elbows on the worktop, and scrubbing my face with my hands. "You're angry." It wasn't a question.

 _"What?_ No! I'm not angry Myc. I completely understand. Usually I don't tell prospective boy or girlfriends I'm a cop until at least the fourth date." He stood, walking around the kitchen island to take me in his muscular arms, and he pressed his lips to my temple.

I turned, catching his lips with my own. "I'm sorry. There are times when you might have to deal with my... position... coming into _us_. I can say that on a large number of daily incidents, I _am_ the British Government."

"Cool." He smiled at me, and his dark eyes sparkled. "Well, Mr Holmes, can the British Government make it to the dinner reservations we made a week ago?"

"For you, Gregory, I could move mountains."

-:-

We got to the French restaurant just in time for our dinner. The hostess seated us at my customary table half-hidden beneath the curving staircase and out of sight of the many security cameras. I chatted easily with the maitre d' in perfect French, to my date's astonishment. He asked me a question also in natural French, and I responded in English.

"I don't think that's your business, sergeant... Yet." He blushed profusely, as he _had_ asked a very personal question.

"Sorry, I was just testing you. You're a natural. Even your accent is spot on." He said, and unrolled his silverware. I grinned, and placed my napkin on my lap.

"I speak fifteen languages fluently, and can make do with ten others. It helps when I deal with foreign countries' emissaries." I replied, and thanked the young boy who brought our bottle of wine. I ended up ordering braised beef for myself, as Gregory ordered the salmon. I poured our wine, and swirled mine in my glass before taking a sip.

Greg took a reluctant sip as well, then seemed to be a bit surprised by its taste. "Damn. This is good wine, Myc. And normally I don't like wine." 

"That's because you just haven't had the wines I get. But I'm glad you like it." I smiled softly, my gaze wandering around the room.

"Myc, how is it that no one's dragged you to the altar yet?" He asked in amazement. I turned my head back to him, my soft grin turning a bit rueful.

"I honestly just haven't found the right man yet." I shrugged, as our dinners arrived. "And you? You're quite the catch as well, Gregory."

"Everyone I try to date ends up cheating on me. I guess I don't know how to set rules in my love life."

He grinned, as I promised that I was never going to cheat on him. "Gregory, you seem to be genuinely interested in me as a romantic partner, but..."

"Myc, cut the bull." He reached across the table, and placed his hand over mine, smiling. His face was open and sincere, as he continued. "I like you, and fuck yeah I want to be your boyfriend, you're _gorgeous,_ and smart, and most importantly, a fucking decent human being. I really want to just shout from the rooftop that I'm yours."

"Maybe not the rooftop. You could fall, and I'd lose you." I smiled, tentative as I added, "But I would like you to be my boyfriend. If you don't mind."

He grinned broadly, as he took a bite of his food. "What were you trying to say, before I ever so rudely interrupted?"

I sighed, poking at my beef, anxious about his response. "My baby brother, Sherlock, he's a Were. He got turned late last year, and... I know it's a bit much, but I'd never abandon him. Especially not now, with everything he's going through. It would be extremely cruel." I sighed, staring at my delicious meal as Gregory chewed slowly.

"What's so bad about him being a Were? I mean, yeah you can't really piss him off, or you'll get your face chewed up, but I think it's sweet how you're sticking by him." Gregory placed his hand over mine again, brushing his thumb back and forth over my skin. I sighed in relief, as I looked up with a tender smile.

"Thank you, I... I practically raised Sherlock, and even if he was in prison, I would still stick by him." I took a bite kf broccoli, and as soon as my mouth was clear, I added, "I'd like you to meet him soon I hope. And our parents. They're hopelessly ordinary, but nice enough."

The beautiful man across the table from me laughed, startled by something that I said. I frowned, tilting my head to the side. "Sorry, I just... I dunno, I guess I thought your parents were... dead. The way you talk, it's like they were there when you were little, but you took over the family early." 

I smiled, I suppose it might seem like that. "I just didn't want to let Sherl be wasted. I could tell he was a genius when he was only two. I took over parenting him from then on, because I knew from personal experience being bored was very destructive to the brain."

"And your mum let you?" He asked, as we both talked between bites of food.

"She and Dad were glad to have someone else that could care for Sherl. He was quite the handful."

"I bet."

I found myself thinking about him, and staring at his face, just wanting to watch his kissable mouth make more words forever.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning.
> 
> Smut.

"Myc, I was wondering if you wanted to come over tonight... I have a surprise for you." Greg had called me frequently since our first date, and I always was eager to see him; we'd gone on multiple dates since, and I couldn't refuse him now.

He was rapidly breaking through my shell, and I loved it.

"Of course, darling. What time?" I shut my laptop, and packed away all of my after hours work. I prayed that he would say now, because I wanted to feel his arms around me again.

"As soon as you're done workin', beautiful. I just finished my shift, and I miss you." I let out a soft sigh of relief, and smiled to myself.

"I'll be there in a few minutes, love. Nothing I'm doing right now is urgent. I miss you too." As we said our goodbyes, I went to the bathroom to freshen up. I dabbed a bit of Gregory's favourite cologne on my neck, fixed my misbehaving hair, and thoroughly brushed my teeth.

Alright, Gregory. I'm coming.

As I ordered my car, Lawson knew exactly where I was headed, by my bright eyes, and small smile. I assumed it was also the way I was dressed, in a simple suit, with no tie, that alerted him to the destination. I always dressed a bit casually for my boyfriend. I didn't want him to feel inadequate, that was my job.

Honestly, I didn't understand why he was calling me things like "Beautiful," or "Gorgeous," as I was not able to see what he found attractive about me. I had very unruly ginger curls, and an unfortunate number of freckles covering my skin. My legs were overlong, and I had a pesky two pounds hanging around my midsection that refused to leave.

We made it through the damnable London traffic, and I stepped out onto the pavement in front of my darling Gregory's building. I felt the stress of work lift from my shoulders, simply from the fact that I would be in Gregory's arms in 38.98 seconds. I climbed the short flight of stairs to his flat, and knocked on the unassuming door. I could hear his soft singing as he cooked, and then the light footsteps as he came to let me in.

"Myc..." He said softly, taking me in his arms as if he'd been waiting just as impatiently as I had. His nose skimmed over the curve of my neck, and I knew he was smelling his favourite cologne.

"Gregory..." I murmured, my hands resting on the small of his back. My stomach protested at the delicious smell of his cooking, and he pulled back, concern evident in his molasses eyes.

"Have you eaten today, beautiful?" God, he knew my habits so well. I pursed my lips, looking away, feeling my cheeks color in shame. That simple response was enough for him. "You're not taking care of my Myc. Please baby, a body needs food to function." He pulled me inside, gently helping me out of my coat, and instructing, "I just made pasta, and _you_ are eating, Mycroft Holmes."

I nodded. Greg was a fantastic cook, much better than I, and I was always hungry for his cooking. I murmured, "Of course, darling," as I sat at his kitchen table. I watched him pile an extra helping of noodles and sauce onto my plate, making sure to give me extra meatballs. I took a bite, as he put his plate across the table from me. "It's delicious."

"I'm glad you like it, beautiful," he said, and grinned. I told him about my day, a brief summary of the drama I dealt with while striving for the promised promotion. Apparently I have to "prove my worth". Gregory snorted, quipping, "If they don't know how amazing you are by now, they're bloody fools." I laughed slightly, and nodded.

After dinner, Gregory pulled me to the couch and flipped on his impressive soundsystem. A fine selection of mellow jazz played, and I leaned into his arms, appreciating the music. It soothed me, and eased some of the last remaining tension in my neck. "It's wonderful, Gregory." I said, turning my face upwards. He pressed his lips to mine, not in a demanding way, but just because he liked to kiss me.

But I felt myself wondering about more. Wondering what Gregory looked like without the regulation shirt and khakis. Wondering about what it would feel like to have his hands on my naked skin....

I shivered, and Gregory stopped his lazy exploration of my mouth. He frowned, pulling away, and asked, "What's wrong, gorgeous?" I bit my lip, sitting a little bit closer to him.

"Gregory, I... I would like to..." I bit my lip as words failed me. He understood it, however, and gently kissed me again, his hands traveling up and down my spine.

"Are you sure?" He asked, with his lips on my neck, trailing soft, reassuring kisses, not in a hurry for anything else.

"I... I want you to be my first." I whispered, and started to fumble with the buttons on my shirt. He smiled, gently taking my hands and kissing my fingers. "Gregory..."

"Ssh, love, I've got you." He stood, pulling me up with him, and led me to his bedroom. He kissed me again, his tounge gently sweeping over mine, as he started to work on the buttons of my shirt. I let out a soft whimper, as he pushed my jacket and shirt off at the same time.

I felt myself grow hard as his hands trailed across my hyper sensitive skin, and his mouth followed his hands, peppering kisses across my chest. He looked up at me, asking, "Are you sure?"

"Please, Gregory. I want this." I whispered. He kissed my shoulder, unbuckling my belt, and removing my trousers. I gasped as he slipped his hand beneath my shorts, and clutched at his shoulders as he started to stroke me. "Gregory...." I panted, arcing my hips into his loving touch.

"Sshh, love. It's alright." He gently removed my shorts as well, and I blushed, as he looked at my naked body. "God, Myc..." I waited for his disappointment, biting my lip and looking away. I resisted the urge to put my clothes back on and go home. "You're fucking gorgeous." I looked at him, as he undressed quickly, and I raked my eyes over his tanned body.

He was magnificent. I wanted to press my lips to every one of his scars, and feel his strong muscles. He smiled, as he said, "I know I'm not much to look at..." I shuddered, as he took me in his arms again, his hard cock pressing into my thigh. I kissed him, tentatively rolling my hips into him, needing the friction of his body against mine like I needed air to breathe. "Jesus, Myc..." He groaned into my shoulder. His strong hands guided me onto the bed, and he asked one last time, " Are you sure?"

"Please. I need this. I need _you."_ He nodded, and reached into his bedside drawer, pulling out a bottle of lubricant. I swallowed nervously, as he applied a generous amount to his fingers, and pushed one in. I sucked in a breath, and he gently massaged my entrance, and he went deeper, sending shockwaves of pleasure to my brain. Then he added a second, and a third, stretching me wider.

I struggled to form a coherent thought, as he replaced his fingers with his erection, slowly filling me. I opened my eyes, not realizing that I'd shut them, and saw his concerned face. I rocked my hips up to meet his, biting my lip and nodding. "I'm good." I don't know how I even managed those two simple words. Every synapse in my brain was firing out of sync, and all I could think of was how perfect he was, as he gently started to thrust into me.

I moved my hips with his, and let out a soft gasp as his erection found my prostate. "Fuck, Myc." He took my hand in his, untangling it from the sheets, and wrapped it around my leaking cock. "You know what you like better than me." He murmured, kissing me, and slipping his tounge in my mouth.

I started to stroke myself in time with his thrusts, bring myself just to the edge, and no further. I wanted him to come with me. "Myc..." He moaned my name against my neck, and I felt his movements grow more erratic.

"I'm there Gregory." I gasped, and we kissed one last time, both coming with a groan. "God above, Gregory Lestrade." I whispered, as he carefully pulled out, and lay next to me. His skin glistened with sweat, and I kissed his shoulder, tasting the salt.

"Are you alright, beautiful?" He asked, lacing his fingers with mine. I smiled gently.

"More than alright. That was perfect." I pulled our hands to my mouth, kissing his knuckles.

"I'm gonna take a shower, you're more than welcome to join me... And, and I can find you some pyjamas, if you want to spend the night..." He seemed so unsure of himself, wanting to be perfect for me.

But he already was.

"Are you sure you want me to?" I asked, and he sighed, leaning in and kissing my forehead.

"I want to wake up with you in my arms." He murmured into my hair.

I smiled, because I wanted that too.


	5. Chapter 5

The headache was monstrous.

Every few years I would have these episodes, migraines that felt like my head was being pounded into the pavement outside, making it hard to focus on anything else. The cause was always the same: stress.

My promotion to the special consultancy position in the government offices was unprecedented, and now every facet of the bureaucracy was bringing their problems to me. The PM, MI-6, the Secret Service, _everyone_ was making me solve their petty disputes. I was working harder than ever before, and the only relief I had was Gregory.

He was a balm to my frustrations, calmed me, talked me off the proverbial ledge, and was the only person who could stop my racing mind. We'd been together for three months now, and I was falling deeper every minute.

I took another paracetamol as I finished my tasks for the day, and had Anthea order my car. The next day was Gregorys birthday, and I had a special gift for him, a key to my flat. 

I called my boyfriend, as I climbed into the waiting sedan, and my Gregory answered with a cheery, "Hullo, love, I just got off my shift. What are you doin?"

"I'm not feeling very well, so I'm going to be home soon. I would love to see you," I said softly. God, even simply speaking made my head throb harder. "Gregory... It hurts," I added weakly.

"Sshh, love, I'm on my way. I'll fix you." I heard his keys jingle in the background, as he left his flat. 

"Thank you, darling." 

"Just rest. I'll be there soon," he murmured a goodbye, and hung up, just as my driver pulled into the main thoroughfare. Fucking rush hour.

Eventually I stumbled up the stairs to my flat, finding Gregory waiting just outside the door for me. I could see the worry etched onto his face, as he immediately took my coat, briefcase, and umbrella from me. I unlocked the door, and he set my things in the hall, telling me, "Sit down on the couch, honey, and I'll make some tea."

I did as he asked, leaning my head on the soft leather backrest. As soon as the kettle was on, Gregory came back and removed my shoes and tie; kissing my forehead, he went back to making the tea.

The calming scent of lavender, chamomile and Rose hips filled the room not to long after, but my headache still pounded relentlessly. "Myc?" I heard Gregory ask, as softly as possible. I opened my eyes and accepted the large mug of tea as he sat down next to me. Gregory began to gently massage my temples, and I sighed, relaxing into his touch.

My migraine slowly subsided under my boyfriend's loving care, and I curled up in his arms, resting my feet on the arm of the couch. "Thank you, Gregory. For everything," I whispered brokenly into his chest, my fingers clenching his shirt.

"Shhhh love, just rest. It's alright. You've been working too hard, that's all. I'm here." His hands rubbed up and down my back soothingly. 

"I love you." I held him tightly, never wanting to let him go. I couldn't go another moment without him knowing my feelings. "You don't have to say it back. I don't mind." I was never any good with feelings, but Gregory's touch, his gentle caresses brought out more emotions in me than anything else in the world.

"Myc, I love you too. I've been in love with you for a while now, I just wasn't sure if you were ready to say the words yet." He softly kissed the top of my head, as his hands resumed their gentle movements on my spine. He whispered sweet nothings in my ear as the last scraps of pain receded. "Oh, Myc."

I sniffed, "Gregory." He kissed my hair again, and I whispered, "Please don't leave me."

"I won't. I promise. I'm not leaving."

-:-

Gregory convinced me to take a few days to rest, and the relief I felt when he said he would stay with me was almost tangible.

I gave him his birthday present early in the morning, adding that he was always welcome here.

"Myc, I love you. So much," he said, clutching the small key in his hand, and kissing my cheek. "I love it, nobody's ever loved me enough to give me a key before."

"Their loss. I love you too, darling. Do you want some breakfast? I know a great little restaurant just down the street..." He laughed quietly, stroking my face with his thumb. He grinned, his dark eyes sparkling.

"Why don't I cook for us?" Hc asked, to which I readily agreed. He was a phenomenal cook.

We ate breakfast slowly, savouring the crepes and cream cheese filling, and Gregory said he was planning on visiting his mum today, if I wanted to come along. She often didn't remember his face, but constantly talked about her darling Greg. I bit my lip, debating, but he gave me puppy dog eyes and I melted.

-:-

"Hey, Mummy." Gregory knelt next to a still-beautiful in the seniors home and kissed her cheek. Mrs. Lestrade had the same chestnut brown hair and molasses eyes as her son, though her hair was heavily shot with silver.

As I stood behind him, I could sense his pain when she replied, "You look like my Greg." She still had a sweet temperament even though she had definite dementia.

"Mum, I am your Greg. Your son. I miss you." 

She smiled, saying, "My Greg is a police officer, you know. He's such a good boy." I placed my hand on his shoulder, trying to give him a modicum of comfort.

"Mum? It's me. It's Gregory. Don't you remember me?" Mrs Lestrade seemed to gain a small amount of clarity as Gregory held her hand.

"Greggy! Oh how I missed you!" She clutched his hand tightly, eyes moist. My eyes weren't fully dry either. "Tell me everything I missed, Greg..."

My boyfriend chuckled weakly, pulling two chairs over for me and him, and I smiled, gently brushing his hair back. 

"Mum, I-I've met someone. Someone good. This is Myc." Greg took my hand as we sat with his mother, and I smiled nervously. "Myc, this is my mum, Sophie Lestrade."

She smiled at me, and I felt a small amount of my fear leave. "You have a wonderful son, Mrs Lestrade. I love him dearly."

She took my hand in hers, saying, "Welcome to the family, Myc. I'm sorry that you couldn't have met _my_ Mike. Michel." She looked between us, and added, "You two make such a lovely couple."

"Thanks, Mum. This one is a keeper."

"So Myc, what do you do?" Sophie Lestrade asked a short time later, as we sat down for lunch. 

"I'm a civil servant, Sophie. Part of the Government." I accepted the water bottle Gregory handed me, and took a grateful sip. I had been talking with Gregory's mum for an hour by now, and she was truly a fascinating woman when she was lucid. She told me tales of her college years, and the time she snuck backstage at a Beatles concert to meet John Lennon.

I told her tales of my experiences with the theatre, and how, when I was young I played the part of Lady Bracknell in _The Importance of Being Earnest._ Greg asked how the hell my parents didn't realize I was gay before I came out. I shrugged, mentioning my Uncle Rudy. He also enjoyed women's clothing from time to time. I had luckily grown out of that phase quite quickly, though there was a picture at my mum's of me wearing her sunglasses and hat.

I gained a new appreciation for Gregory that day, how caring and attentive he was. It was so much more than just the way he treated his mother, it was the kindness he showed in doing it, always gentle and soft with her, and he was the same way with me, when I was under heavy pressure from the PM, or just having a bad day. 

He was perfect.

-:-

We cuddled up together on the couch when we got back to my place, and I confessed another one of my childhood secrets. I was a fat kid. I still struggled with my weight a bit, having a stubborn two pounds hanging on to my midsection. No matter how hard I try, I still have a bit of pudge.

My self deprecating tone seemed to anger him. "Mycroft Holmes you are _not_ the number on the scale. You. Are. _Gorgeous."_ He kissed me fiercely, effectively cutting off any reply I could have made to the contrary.

"You.... You really think I'm handsome?" I asked breathlessly after he pulled away. I couldn't quite wrap my head around this new feeling. 

"Myc. You are handsome, gorgeous, beautiful, amazing, take your pick. God, you've got like ten feet of legs, a killer arse, and such a kissable face. Of _course_ I find you attractive. Who doesn't?"

I sighed, closing my eyes and snuggling into his chest. "You're the first to tell me that, Gregory. I love you so much, I don't know how I managed without you."

"I hope you never have to again, babe."


	6. Chapter 6

Sherlock was moving in to the apartment I'd arranged for him today, just a few buildings down from mine, where I could make sure he was safe and sound. I worried about him more and more now that our hometown knew he was a Were. Small towns could be ridiculously narrow minded, however London had a high percentage of Creatures living here. 

My sweet Gregory offered to make the trip with his Land Rover, and I was glad to hear it. I had been wanting him to meet my family ever since he had taken me to visit his mum two months ago. But I knew that he would need to be prepared for the encounter, seeing as almost all of my previous relationships ended the day after I brought the man home.

"Gregory, Sherlock might be a bit... standoffish when you meet him. My previous boyfriends hadn't bothered to get to know my family, or say more than five words to Sherl, so just... Be patient with them, Mum and Dad, too. I haven't always made the best choice when it comes to my companions." We had finally arrived at my parents house, and I took my time getting out of the car. Greg ambled about the pastoral farmland, taking in the views as I sent a few short messages.

Finally summoning up the courage to deal with Mummy, I hopped out of the SUV and led Greg to the side door. Mum answered just a few short moments later, sniffling.

"Oh, Mikey. I'm so glad you're home," Mum was _crying?_

Fuck.

"What happened, Mummy? Sherlock? Please dear God, don't let him be hurt." I brushed past her, looking around for Sherlock, praying that he was alright. 

"Mycroft Holmes, can't a mother miss her son?!" Mum had turned from weepily sentimental to her usual fierceness in an instant, and I let out a deep breath.

Must. Not. Maim.

"Sorry, Mum." I said stiffly, and gave her the required hug. "Mummy, this is Gregory Lestrade, my boyfriend." I took his hand, relaxing as he smiled gently, and kissed my cheek.

"Hello, Mrs Holmes, it's wonderful to meet you. Your son is incredible," Gregory said as he leaned his head on my shoulder for a brief moment. "I hear that you are the chef in the family. I'd love to have a few more dishes to make Myc sometime." I'd explained that my mother was always proud of her cooking, and he was now manipulating like a true Holmes. 

Well, not really. He would need to get something out of it to truly fit in. It was more like he was exploiting her weaknesses. I approved wholeheartedly. Mummy was the one who had taught me how to use my inside knowledge to my advantage, though it was Uncle Rudy who'd had the sense to direct me to government roles.

Gregory and Mum talked away, as she led him to the kitchen to show him her recipe cards. My wonderful boyfriend shot me an apologetic glance over his shoulder, to which I smiled softly and gave him a thumbs up.

I went upstairs to check on Sherlock, to see if he was ready to leave. I found him in his room, putting the finishing touches on packing up his things. He seemed slightly off, upset about something maybe, as he conversed with his friend Blaise. I leaned in the door, silently observing him. Finally, I asked, "Sherlock, are you alright?" I kept my voice low, so as not to startle him, but I did.

He jumped, in the middle of securing his pillows together with a belt. "I'm fine, My, honest," he mumbled. "Just a bit nervous."

"It'll be fine, man. We can still talk, I'll even set up a video chat if you want..." Blaise said, trying to reassure him.

I sighed, kneeling next to him and placing my hand on his shoulder. "You'll never find your Alpha here, Sherl. It's for the best," I murmured to him, trying to help him understand why I was so adamant about him living in London with me. "More people accept Creatures in the big city. You'll be able to find other Weres, and... Trust me, like you used to, Sherl, please..."

He exhaled, biting his lip, and looking at me with the most helpless expression on his face. "I'm just scared Myc, that's all. It's a big change, you know?" 

I nodded, smiling softly. "I know. I was a bit scared moving to London too. There's someone whom I want you to meet, Sherlock... He's very important to me, can you try to put up with him?" Sherl laughed, and poked my side, giving a snarky comment.

I shot right back at him, and even Blaise joined in, as we finished packing up my little brother's things. I was glad Sherl had Blaise, he needed a good friend, and the mousy boy seemed to be that for him. I brought Sherlock downstairs as soon as we had ascertained that everything was accounted for. I found Gregory in the kitchen, telling my parents an exciting story of his narrow escape from becoming an old man without any sort of companion. In other words, how we met.

"Oh, Myc, your boyfriend is so wonderful!" Mum was laughing, which surprised me, seeing as none of the things Gregory was telling her were particularly funny. "So handsome, too."

"Oh, Mum, stop it." Gregory waved his hand dismissively, and gave me a kiss. He noticed Sherlock then, where he was hiding behind me. He shifted to the side slightly, and addressed my little brother. "Hey, kid, Myc can't stop telling me about how great you are. I'm Greg."

I turned my head, catching the look Sherlock was giving my boyfriend, as he deadpanned, "All lies, I'm sure. Don't believe half of it."

Gregory laughed, holding his fist out with a hopeful expression. "Please?" He asked, and Sherl rolled his eyes, bumping his fist. Well, at least the deductions haven't started yet. We helped him bring his boxes and bags down, and Gregory insisted on packing up the Land Rover himself.

After a short goodbye, we piled into the SUV, and Gregory tried to lure Sherlock out of his shell, to no avail. I smiled sadly, murmuring that it was just a big change, and not to take it personally. Gregory smiled back, and put on a mix of mellow jazz, as I opened my notebook, idly going over work projects.

-:-

We stopped for lunch at a quaint burger joint just off the highway, still having an hour or two of drive time. I grew immediately irritated as the waitress flirted with my boyfriend shamelessly.

Gregory didn't notice, apparently, which slightly relieved me, as he ordered a burger and fries, and Sherlock gave her his order of a Greek salad in a clipped tone. I nudged his foot underneath the table, sternly glaring at him.

"Myc, darlin', what sounds good to you?" Gregory asked, apparently he _had_ noticed the flirting and he was responding by being overly affectionate to me.

I approved, giving him my best puppy dog eyes, and saying, "Oh, I don't know, dear, what sounds good to you? I think the soup sounds good, but maybe a sandwich..." I turned to the waitress, my voice frigid. "I'll have a Ruben on rye."

The poor girl nodded, and scampered off to the kitchen, probably to have a cry. 

As soon as she was gone, the three of us dissolved into quiet laughter, even Sherlock. He wiped his watering eyes, and gave Gregory a smile. "Thanks Greg, I needed that."

"I hoped I'd get a laugh out of you, kid. You were lookin' long as Livery Street for a moment." Gregory chuckled, and I picked up his hand, kissing it softly and mouthing, 'thank you.' He truly was incredible.


	7. Chapter 7

Things went smoothly while Sherlock lived down the street from my building. I'd had the sense to take him to see Miss Adler when we had arrived in London, and it seemed to have gone well, her fittings were usually impeccable... or so I've been told.

The next morning, I sent my little brother a list of the places hiring nearby, suggesting that he begin to search for meaningful employment immediately. 

I spent the day putting out seven different metaphorical fires in my department and others. Not to mention the crisis in Zimbabwe and the election in Morocco, having to weigh the pros and cons of taking any actions with our men in both countries. I eventually found a migraine forming at the base of my skull, and put the matter to rest in my mind. I couldn't find it in my heart to bother Gregory with another episode.

Disaster struck just as I was preparing to leave my office, as I received a text from Gregory, informing me that he had been involved in a shooting at work, and I also received a departmental memo, one that said one of the agents that I had hand picked from MI-6 had been killed in the line of duty.

God help me, could this day get any worse?

I told Gregory to be at my flat as soon as he got off work, and I would be home by six. I poured myself a glass of scotch the instant I walked in the door, and a second glass of scotch for my boyfriend. 

We did our best to comfort each other, wrapped in each other's arms, he muttered that at least he received his promised promotion, before he had a gun pulled on him at a crime scene, forcing him to fire on the suspect.

As I gently caressed my lover's face, preparing to go and pour us each another glass, my phone made the soft chime I had reserved for Sherlock. I immediately looked at the text, reading his short, succinct tale of a fruitless search for employment. I sighed softly, and made him up a pot of decaffeinated coffee.

"Gregory, Sherl has had a rough day as well." I returned to the couch, leaning my head on my boyfriend's shoulder. "Not one of the thirteen job openings that I pointed out to him would hire a Were."

"Bloody speciesists." My sweet darling let out a sigh of abject disapproval, and took a sip of his drink. "Especially since the MCA just passed. Even the Met's hopped on board the Creature accepting train, with this new special consultant position, made specifically for Weres and Vamps. Supposed to help promote equality."

Sherlock buzzed in on the intercom at that moment, and I walked to the door, pressing the button that would let him inside. I poured my little brother a cup of coffee, and stood on the landing, watching with sad eyes as he slowly trudged up the stairs.

"I tried My, I tried so hard," he mumbled tiredly. I handed him his mug and gave a sympathetic smile.

I could see the circuits in Sherl's brain firing rapidly as he glanced at my Gregory. "Hey, Greg. Sorry about the shooting."

Sighing, I muttered, "It's been a rough day all around, Sherl. I lost an agent." I sat down next to Gregory on the couch, carding my fingers through his hair lovingly, while my brother took a seat on my coffee table, scuffing the carpet with his foot.

"How did you know?" Gregory asked, to which Sherlock shrugged.

"You just came in from work, hint of a badge sticking out of your pocket, and I can smell gunpowder. Plus, you look like you just saw a ghost."

Gregory looked at me with a small smile, murmuring, "You weren't kidding, love. Your brother's brilliant."

Sherl protested, instead he admitted to having the suspicion that his conclusion of Gregory being a sergeant incorrect. My sweet boyfriend chuckled, and mussed my little brother's hair.

"I just got promoted today. I'm a DI now. But I think that you would make a great detective, Sherlock."

Gregory hummed, glancing over to me, looking for my approval. I nodded in agreement, and he said, "Sherlock, Myc said that you were having a hard time finding a job? What if you worked as a special consultant for the Met? The super just instituted the position, and we're looking for a few blokes to help on all of the Were and Vamp cases we get. There's been a fair bit of press on the MCA, and the Met is hopping on board. Annual salary would be at least £50,000 even if you only have a few cases a month... What do you think?"

Sherl scuffed the carpet with his foot again, and asked about maternity leave, if he ever found his Alpha, to which Gregory assured him that something could be arranged.

I sighed in relief as Sherl finally had a positive job outlook.

-:-

The crisis in Zimbabwe came to a head, just as I made strategic moves in Morocco on Friday.

I stumbled up the stairs to my flat, kicking off my shoes, and tossing my coat and briefcase by the door on my way to the kitchen for the bottle of brandy I kept in the cupboard. Fuck. I couldn't believe...

I took a long pull from the bottle to fend off the despair.

And another, when I thought of the possibility of failure.

I dimly heard someone say something, and I knew that Gregory had stopped by. The only thing I could think to do was mutter, "Fucking Zimbabwe." I felt a hand, Gregory's hand, on my shoulder, and I leaned my cheek on it, drawing comfort from the physical contact.

A short while later, it registered that he had said _we_ don't understand. Sherlock was here with him. I sighed, as Gregory took me in his arms after making me feel more comfortable. 

"I'm sorry for scaring you, Sherl," I murmured. "I know you haven't seen me like that. Unfortunately, Gregory has seen it all too much recently."

I found myself trying to explain the fragile web I manipulated on a daily basis, until my darling Gregory placed a kiss to the bridge of my nose. "Sorry, Goldfish. I'll stop working now."

"You'd better," Gregory growled. I knew how much he hated to see me like this, completely incapacitated by work. I resolved to try harder not to stress myself out as much. My resolution was confirmed as Gregory added, "I know you love to play God, but that's just a job. That's 'Mycroft Holmes'. The minute you walk through that door, or into my arms, I want you to be Myc. Simply Myc, who doesn't give a damn that the world is going to shit, because you've got me, your simple little Goldfish."

I felt my heart lurch as he poured out his loving admonishment, and I knew that one day soon, Gregory and I will get married. At least that's what I so desperately desired. With soft kisses and gentle touches, my lover brought me down from my ledge, back to solid ground.

"Sherl. Did you get the job?" I asked him a short while later.

"Mhm. Yeah. I'll have a badge by next week." He muttered, snapping out of whatever dark thoughts were occupying his mind. I worried at his slightly ill expression as he said goodnight, but I refused to believe that he was in any way sick.

Sherl was going to be alright. He just had to.


End file.
